


Against the Wall

by amyfortuna



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Breathplay, Choking, Confrontations, Half-Sibling Incest, M/M, Non-Consensual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 09:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5243015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fëanor takes the infamous confrontation with Fingolfin one step further.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Against the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this as part of a 3-5 sentence challenge with a kink on FFA; I've slightly revised and expanded it. The kink was 'breathplay'.

Fëanor's hand was pressing at his neck, where seconds before his blade had been, and Fingolfin gasped for air. He had remained still as stone while Fëanor's sword lay at the beating pulse of his throat, ready to spill his lifeblood with one wrong move, but this was somehow worse and better at the same time: far more intimate than cold steel, far more likely to rip his heart open and leave his complicated emotions spilling on the ground for all to see. 

Fëanor's eyes met his, and there was challenge in them, anger burning bright, and somewhere far down in the depths of him, Fingolfin could see a hopeless yearning, something he had never thought to ever behold in the eyes of his brother, and it matched his own. The hand about his throat suddenly became a caress composed of shocking violence, their first real physical contact in years. 

Fingolfin's blood was pounding in his ears, three parts fear, one part arousal, all afire with Fëanor's closeness. Fëanor was pressed all against him from hip to chest, pushing him back into the wall with his whole body, this anger raging through him more intensely intimate than a kiss would have been. 

Beyond words or breath, Fingolfin was lightheaded and dizzy, trembling at the thought of death taking him even now in this public place with Fëanor's hands on him, Fëanor's eyes on him, and his whole body needing him far more than air or life. 

"Fëanáro, please!" Finwë exclaimed, voice sounding to Fingolfin's ears as though it came from very far away; the hand at his throat was peeled away, and Fingolfin slid down the wall to the ground as his breath came back, shuddering and shaking in mingled revulsion and desire. Above him, Fëanor was being led away by their father, and some part of Fingolfin protested only the loss of that bright, burning touch.


End file.
